Alive devour; then, haply, thou wilt rest;
Do even as thou wilt, that this dispute
Live not between us a consuming fire
For ever. But attend; mark well the word.
When I shall also doom in future time45
Some city to destruction, dear to thee,
Oppose me not, but give my fury way
As I give way to thine, not pleased myself,
Yet not unsatisfied, so thou be pleased.
For of all cities of the sons of men,50
And which the sun and stars from heaven behold,
Me sacred Troy most pleases, Priam me
Most, and the people of the warrior King.
Nor without cause. They feed mine altar well;
Libation there, and steam of savory scent55
Fail not, the tribute which by lot is ours.
Him answer'd, then, the Goddess ample-eyed,[3] Majestic Juno: Three fair cities me, 087 Of all the earth, most interest and engage, Mycenæ for magnificence renown'd,60 Argos, and Sparta. Them, when next thy wrath Shall be inflamed against them, lay thou waste; I will not interpose on their behalf; Thou shalt not hear me murmur; what avail Complaint or force against thy matchless arm?65 Yet were it most unmeet that even I Should toil in vain; I also boast a birth Celestial; Saturn deeply wise, thy Sire, Is also mine; our origin is one. Thee I acknowledge Sovereign, yet account70 Myself entitled by a twofold claim To veneration both from Gods and men, The daughter of Jove's sire, and spouse of Jove. Concession mutual therefore both thyself Befits and me, whom when the Gods perceive75 Disposed to peace, they also shall accord. Come then.—To yon dread field dispatch in haste Minerva, with command that she incite The Trojans first to violate their oath By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks.80
So Juno; nor the sire of all refused,
But in wing'd accents thus to Pallas spake.
Begone; swift fly to yonder field; incite
The Trojans first to violate their oath
By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks.85
The Goddess heard, and what she wish'd, enjoin'd,
Down-darted swift from the Olympian heights,
In form a meteor, such as from his hand
Not seldom Jove dismisses, beaming bright
And breaking into stars, an omen sent90
To mariners, or to some numerous host.
Such Pallas seem'd, and swift descending, dropp'd
Full in the midst between them. They with awe
That sign portentous and with wonder view'd,
Achaians both and Trojans, and his next95
The soldier thus bespake. Now either war
088 And dire hostility again shall flame,
Or Jove now gives us peace. Both are from Jove.
So spake the soldiery; but she the form
Taking of brave Laodocus, the son100
Of old Antenor, throughout all the ranks
Sought godlike Pandarus.[4] Ere long she found The valiant son illustrious of Lycaon, Standing encompass'd by his dauntless troops, Broad-shielded warriors, from Æsepus' stream105 His followers; to his side the Goddess came, And in wing'd accents ardent him bespake.
Brave offspring of Lycaon, is there hope
That thou wilt hear my counsel? darest thou slip
A shaft at Menelaus? much renown110
Thou shalt and thanks from all the Trojans win,
But most of all, from Paris, prince of Troy.
From him illustrious gifts thou shalt receive
Doubtless, when Menelaus he shall see
The martial son of Atreus by a shaft115
Subdued of thine, placed on his funeral pile.
Come. Shoot at Menelaus, glorious Chief!
But vow to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown'd
A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,
To fair Zeleia's[5] walls once safe restored.120
So Pallas spake, to whom infatuate he
Listening, uncased at once his polished bow.[6] 089 That bow, the laden brows of a wild goat Salacious had supplied; him on a day Forth-issuing from his cave, in ambush placed125 He wounded with an arrow to his breast Dispatch'd, and on the rock supine he fell. Each horn had from his head tall growth attain'd, Full sixteen palms; them shaven smooth the smith Had aptly join'd, and tipt their points with gold.130 That bow he strung, then, stooping, planted firm The nether horn, his comrades bold the while Screening him close with shields, lest ere the prince Were stricken, Menelaus brave in arms, The Greeks with fierce assault should interpose.135 He raised his quiver's lid; he chose a dart Unflown, full-fledged, and barb'd with pangs of death. He lodged in haste the arrow on the string, And vow'd to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown'd A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,140 To fair Zeleia's walls once safe restored. Compressing next nerve and notch'd arrow-head He drew back both together, to his pap Drew home the nerve, the barb home to his bow, And when the horn was curved to a wide arch,145 He twang'd it. Whizz'd the bowstring, and the reed Leap'd off, impatient for the distant throng.
Thee, Menelaus, then the blessed Gods
Forgat not; Pallas huntress of the spoil,
Thy guardian then, baffled the cruel dart.150
Far as a mother wafts the fly aside[7] 090 That haunts her slumbering babe, so far she drove Its course aslant, directing it herself Against the golden clasps that join'd his belt; For there the doubled hauberk interposed.155 The bitter arrow plunged into his belt. It pierced his broider'd belt, stood fixt within His twisted hauberk, nor the interior quilt, Though penetrable least to arrow-points And his best guard, withheld it, but it pass'd160 That also, and the Hero's skin inscribed. Quick flowed a sable current from the wound.
As when a Carian or Mæonian maid
Impurples ivory ordain'd to grace
The cheek of martial steed; safe stored it lies,165
By many a Chief desired, but proves at last
The stately trapping of some prince,[8] the pride Of his high pamper'd steed, nor less his own; Such, Menelaus, seem'd thy shapely thighs, Thy legs, thy feet, stained with thy trickling blood.170
Shudder'd King Agamemnon when he saw
The blood fast trickling from the wound, nor less
Shudder'd himself the bleeding warrior bold.
But neck and barb observing from the flesh
Extant, he gather'd heart, and lived again.175
The royal Agamemnon, sighing, grasp'd
The hand of Menelaus, and while all
Their followers sigh'd around them, thus began.[9]
091 I swore thy death, my brother, when I swore
This truce, and set thee forth in sight of Greeks180
And Trojans, our sole champion; for the foe
Hath trodden underfoot his sacred oath,
And stained it with thy blood. But not in vain,
The truce was ratified, the blood of lambs
Poured forth, libation made, and right hands join'd185
In holy confidence. The wrath of Jove
May sleep, but will not always; they shall